


This Is Fine

by Razer



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Galleries, Art Student Han Jisung | Han, Attempt at Humor, Cats in Medieval Art, Fluff, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Idiots in Love, Jisung in Glasses, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Minsung Being Dramatic, Rated T for swearing, Strangers to Lovers, no cats were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razer/pseuds/Razer
Summary: Jisung meets Minho at an art exhibition for European Medieval Art. Minho may be having an existential crisis over cats and Jisung just happens to be there to witness it all.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 8
Kudos: 248





	This Is Fine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Minsung, so I hope I didn't do too bad with getting their personalities right :) 
> 
> This was inspired by a video I watched on cats in medieval art (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1HzpBaIiVsw&ab_channel=Cheddar), and I thought Minho would probably hate this, so here we are. If you want to suffer with Minho, here are quite a few of those cat paintings: https://www.sadanduseless.com/ugly-cat-art-gallery/. 
> 
> English is not my first language, if you spot any mistakes feel free to point them out to me^^  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome!

_I should stop staring._

It must have been at least ten minutes now. Ten minutes didn’t sound long, but when they were spent doing nothing but looking at someone from across the room, it sure seemed like an eternity. Jisung couldn’t help but wonder if the boy could feel his eyes on him with how intensely he was staring.

Of all the things to look at in an art gallery, a stranger wasn’t really that high on the list. When Jisung had entered the exhibition he was fully prepared to spend the afternoon looking at enormous paintings and intricate sculptures. He wouldn’t go as far as calling himself an art snob by any means. He would rather call it a healthy appreciation. There was just something fascinating about being able to express so many emotions with the simplicity of a single brushstroke. And he liked the colors. Sue him, he liked pretty stuff, and art could be very pretty. That being said, that was not necessarily the reason why he found himself at a temporary exhibition of European medieval art at the Seoul Museum of Art. Medieval art really wasn’t all that pretty. It was, however, immensely interesting. At least it was in Jisung’s eyes.

Right now, however, the strange boy was far more interesting than any painting in the room. And Jisung would stop staring, except for he couldn’t really tear his eyes away from him. It wasn’t necessarily because the stranger looked unfairly pretty with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and cat-like eyes, chocolate brown hair falling softly over his forehead, slightly parted in the middle. Or because he looked like he had stumbled into the art gallery on accident, rather than on purpose. People didn’t usually dress up at exhibitions. It was more of an unofficial dress code. ‘Like meeting the parents for the first time’ Jisung had read somewhere before. Being presentable without looking like you tried too hard. And the boy was definitely not trying. A pair of black sweatpants covered long legs and a dark blue sweater fell softly over his chest, a white shirt peeking out at the bottom. The sneakers on his feet looked like they used to be white many moons ago, now a dirty greyish color, and there was a pair of headphones dangling around his neck. And yet, what caught Jisung’s attention instead was the fact that, while he had been staring at the boy for a good quarter of an hour now, the boy had also been staring at the same painting ever since he had laid eyes on him.

The boy didn’t really look entranced by the painting. Rather, he looked downright paralyzed, eyes narrowed and brows deeply furrowed, his lips pulled into a tight line. The boy looked like he was about to cry, really.

_I really should stop staring._

“How could anyone do this?” For a second Jisung thought he imagined the boy talking. But then he turned to look at Jisung, and Jisung almost let out a squeak as dark eyes met his.

_Fuck._

“I mean… this is just downright evil,” the stranger’s voice broke, face pulled into a grimace. Even all scrunched up Jisung couldn’t help but think that he had a very pretty face, with pretty, plump lips pulling into a pout. Jisung gulped. This was probably the part where he should either say something or run away. And yet, it was now him that was paralyzed, just staring at the boy.

“Have you seen this?” the boy didn’t seem bothered by his obvious staring, nor by his silence, but instead made a hand gesture towards the painting.

“What?” Jisung managed to press out. His eyes fell onto the painting the boy was looking at. It wasn’t all that different from all the other paintings in the room, but then he noticed the part the boy was pointing to. In the bottom corner of the painting, there was a cat. But in all honesty, calling it a cat was generous. It looked like a demon. An ugly, wrinkly demon that should have never grazed the human eye.

“That’s a cat,” he finally said, and the stranger spluttered.

“That is _not_ a cat.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be.” Jisung finally willed himself to step closer, now standing right next to the boy.

“They’re fucking everywhere,” the stranger pressed out behind gritted teeth, eyes flickering over the other paintings in the room. There was a frantic look in his eyes, and maybe Jisung should be getting worried.

He had noticed the other cats. They weren’t actually everywhere, but he had stumbled across some during the time where he had still been looking at the paintings instead of the boy. Admittedly, the one in front of them was the worst one so far.

“My friend said I would hate this,” the boy grumbled.

“Then why did you come?” Jisung cocked his head to the side.

The boy turned to look at him, nose scrunched up, “He doesn’t get to tell me what I’d hate.”

Jisung swallowed at the intense stare. Now that he was standing closer to him, it felt like those eyes were directly looking into his soul, and that was all sorts of unsettling.

“But he was right?”

The boy let out a grunt, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Why are you here anyways? This doesn’t seem like the scene for soft nerdy boys.”

Jisung would take offense to that, if it wasn’t true. His small frame was practically drowning in an oversized pink sweater, and the big, round glasses perched on his nose probably didn’t help either. He hadn’t really dressed for the occasion, visiting the gallery more on a whim than anything else. He was pretty sure there were at least some paint stains on his ripped blue jeans, but he hadn’t bothered checking. Still, he huffed.

“I’ll have you know, I major in art,” Jisung said.

“That’s enough reason to put yourself through this torture?” the boy didn’t sound convinced, “Don’t tell me you actually like this stuff.”

“No… I mean,” Jisung looked to the ground, “I may be, kind of, here for the… cats?”

He could hear a sharp inhale coming from the other boy, his face probably graced with a disgusted grimace if the following words were anything to go by.  
“You knew about these abominations.” He didn’t even bother phrasing it like a question.

Jisung nodded, eyes not moving up from the floor.

“And you still wanted to see them?”

Something told him that maybe he shouldn’t tell this pretty stranger that the fact that the cats were abominations was the exact reason he had wanted to see them in the first place. So he just looked at the boy from beneath his lashes, a sheepish smile gracing his lips.

“What is wrong with you?” the boy managed to say, “What have cats ever done to you?”

“Nothing!”

Jisung held up his hands in defense, but the stranger merely narrowed his eyes at him. Pulling his lips into a pout, Jisung looked at him with big eyes. The boy let out a soft noise, eyes practically boring into Jisung’s head as if he wanted to pick out his brain and separate it in all its tiny parts. He gulped, his own eyes flickering back and forth between the dark ones of the other boy. Maybe he should just look at his nose. But maybe that was too close to the lips. And oh right, those were nice lips, even though they were still scowling. Full and probably really soft, too.

_Stop._

Jisung practically forced himself to look back up, hoping that the other boy hadn’t noticed how he had gotten distracted for a second there. But the pretty stranger only sighed, his features finally softening again.

“All right then, art major,” he huffed, turning back to the painting, “Then tell me, why are Europeans so evil?”

A snort forced itself out of Jisung’s throat. “I’m not sure if we should call them all evil.”

The other boy raised his eyebrows. “They created this,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, “They’re evil.”

Jisung shrugged in defeat. Hunching his shoulders he put his hands together, pressing his thumb harshly into his palm, before squeezing and pulling at his own fingers. This boy really shouldn’t make him as nervous as he was. 

“Well, you know, medieval art wasn’t really like art nowadays. At its core it was basically religious propaganda and cats were often associated with heretic practices and pagan entities. So the catholic church wasn’t really a big fan of them,” he said, “And in their paintings animals often represented specific human qualities. Like how dogs were a symbol of loyalty, cats were a symbol of evil. So they wanted to make it really obvious that cats were the complete opposite of what humans were supposed to be like and drew them really, really ugly.”

The stranger remained silent, studying the painting in front of them.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked,” he then said, “That explanation sucks.”

“Fun fact,” Jisung added, his short nails lightly scraping across the back of his hand and knuckles, “Their immense hatred for cats is also believed to be a possible reason for why the plague hit Europe so badly.”

That got a giggle out of the boy. Jisung may have blushed. But only maybe.

“Serves them right,” he grinned.

Jisung bit his lower lip, staring at the boy’s side profile. “So… you feel better now?” he asked, ducking his head a bit.

The pretty stranger turned his head towards him. “You know,” his grin was so bright it showed all his perfectly straight teeth. And if his face was pretty when he was scowling, it was absolutely ethereal when he was smiling, “That really did make me feel better.”

And Jisung couldn’t help but smile, too. His eyes fell back to the floor, where they might as well take permanent residence with how often they found the tiles. If he’d look at the boy for too long, he would stare and then he would blush and that was a whole thing he didn’t want to get into right now.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough of this,” the boy said, regarding the gallery with a sneer, “I need to purge my mind from all… _this_.”

A twinge of wistfulness invaded Jisung’s mind when the boy said those words. Which was stupid. He had only just met him. He didn’t even know his name. And yet.

“You wanna come with?”

Jisung blinked, looking up. The stranger was already looking at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

_What?_

“What?” Jisung hated how his tongue stumbled over that one single word, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Or do you wanna keep looking at the works of evil people?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at him, leaning a bit closer, “You don’t look evil, but looks can be deceiving, huh?”

Jisung’s mind was spiraling. Just the tiniest bit. Maybe it was because a stranger had just asked him to hang out. Maybe it was because a _really pretty stranger_ had asked him to hang out. Maybe it was also the sheer embarrassment of not being able to function like a normal human being, unable to answer a simple yes or no question.

“I don’t even know your name,” stumbled out instead.

The boy grinned. “What? You think I’m gonna stab you in an alley way or something?”

Jisung just gaped at him.

“Out of the two of us, I’m pretty sure I’m not the evil one,” the boy looked so unbothered. And maybe that was both unsettling and weirdly enticing at the same time. Jisung didn’t really know what to say to that. But the boy seemed to take pity on him.

“I’m Minho.”

The pretty stranger, Minho, reached out and suddenly there was a finger in Jisung’s face as he gently pushed his glasses up his nose. Jisung blinked again, dumbfounded. He must look stupid with how he kept gaping at the other boy. He hadn’t even noticed his glasses slipping again. And even though Minho hadn’t touched his skin directly, his entire face tingled and his ears felt hot enough he was sure they were burning red.

“So what do you say, Harry Potter?” Minho’s grin didn’t slip one bit. Maybe he was used to people gaping at him.

“It’s Jisung, actually.”

“Hmm?”

“My name. It’s Jisung,” Jisung refused to meet his eyes, “Not Harry Potter.”

A small laugh escaped Minho’s lips. “Alright, Jisung. You coming or what?”

“Sure,” he finally managed to say, “Why not.”

“Great,” Minho said, “Let’s go then.”

So what if Jisung only got as far as two rooms into the entire exhibition, an entire building of paintings still before him? Maybe he didn’t need to see the rest. Maybe he had already seen all he needed to see.

_The paintings all look the same anyways._

***

Minho was weird, Jisung decided. Maybe he was also just very extroverted. Jisung probably wouldn’t know the difference. Extroverts were weird. It fit.

They were sitting at a booth in a small coffee shop, Iced Americanos in front of them. Jisung was playing with his straw, swirling the ice cubes in the cup around, eyes flickering towards Minho ever so often. Jisung wasn’t particularly good with new people, but Minho apparently was, so maybe this was fine. He kept smiling at him, even when Jisung was his usual socially awkward mess, and it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. A feeling he wasn’t used to associate with strangers.

“Anyways,” Minho said, “This was hands down the second most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Only the second most?” Jisung asked, a tiny grin on his face.

Minho nodded, his expression turning grim. “Cats the movie still exists.”

Realization crossed Jisung’s face. “Ah. Yeah.”  
He looked at his Iced Americano, eyes now trained onto the ice cubes inside it. Maybe he would just watch them melt into the dark liquid at a glacial pace, as long as he didn’t have to look at the boy across from him.

He could practically feel Minho’s stare on him. “You’ve seen that one, too, haven’t you?”

Jisung was almost too scared to admit it.

“Maybe?” he smiled sheepishly, “It was boring though, I just watched it because…”

He stopped himself, but Minho had already caught on what he had been about to say. Jisung dared a glance at him and was met with an unmistakable glare.

“Because of the cats,” his voice was icy enough it made chills run down Jisung’s back, “That’s what you wanted to say, wasn’t it?”

Jisung shrunk back in his seat, shrugging.

“You really _are_ evil.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. The protest stuck in his throat, he gaped at Minho.

“You know, I was about to show you pictures of my cats, but now I’m kind of afraid you would curse them or something,” Minho scowled.

“But…” Jisung tried, “I love cats!”

“That sounds fake.”

He couldn’t really stop the pout. It was his last line of defense. Minho might as well pass the killing blow, Jisung had nothing left to fend him off.

“I know you’re trying to convince me of your innocence, but it’s too late,” Minho took a sip from his coffee, “That pout won’t change a thing.”

Jisung let out a sigh. “Fine.”

“It was a good pout, though.”

“Had years to perfect it.”

_Maybe I should just stop talking altogether._

There was a twinkle in Minho’s eyes. “Bet that got you out of all kinds of situations.”

“Every kind of situation, actually.”

_Why am I still talking? God, stop._

Minho smirked and Jisung rolled his eyes. “This one doesn’t count,” he said, but it sounded weak in his own ears.

“Sure,” Minho regarded him with a thoughtful look, just staring at the other boy. Jisung turned red, squirming in his seat.

“What?” Taking the straw in his mouth he took a large sip of his coffee, eyes not leaving the boy in front of him.

Minho shrugged. “You’re cute for an evil person.”

Jisung chocked on his Americano and Minho giggled.

_Well, fuck._

***

“Hyung?”

Jisung was staring at the ceiling, back against the soft cushions of the couch. It was painfully quiet, only the soft humming of Chan’s laptop cutting through the silence. It had been a while since Jisung had gotten back. When he had opened the door to their shared apartment he had slipped off his shoes and proceeded to head straight for the couch, not even bothering to greet his roommate. But after staring at the same dirty spot on the ceiling for what felt like half an eternity, Jisung finally broke the silence.

Chan made a sound from where he was sitting at a small table right next to the couch, but didn’t look away from his laptop. Jisung rolled onto his stomach, reaching out to poke him in the side and looking up at him with wide eyes. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

That made Chan look away from the bright screen, frowning at Jisung.

“Do you?” he sounded unsure. They’ve never had a conversation like this. It was unknown territory, and Jisung wasn’t sure why he even dared to set foot in it. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I don’t think so. It’s just…”

His roommate pushed his laptop away, turning his entire body so he could really look at the small heap that was Jisung on the couch. “Did something happen?” he asked, “Or someone?”  
He wiggled his eyebrows at the younger boy, which promptly earned him a poorly aimed shove.

“Shut up.”

Chan laughed. “You started this.”

“I know, I regret it already,” Jisung grumbled, “Can we pretend I never said anything?”

“Nope,” Chan said gleefully. Jisung didn’t like the grin on his face. He wanted to wipe it off, but something told him that this was his own fault and maybe he should really consider thinking before talking.

“Come on,” Chan poked his cheek, and Jisung almost growled at him, “What’s on your mind?”

Jisung let out a sigh. “I… maybe, possibly, kinda met someone.”

“I got that far.”

“At the gallery.”

His roommate nodded along. “Another art student?”

“No,” Jisung chuckled at the mere thought of it, “I don’t think he even really likes art.”

Chan tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What was he doing at an art gallery then?”

“You know,” Jisung said, “I’m not quite sure. He said something about his friend not thinking that he’d like the exhibition.”

“Sounds like a vague reason to visit a gallery.”

Jisung shrugged.

“So what?” Chan asked when he didn’t elaborate further, “You bonded over the exhibition or something?”

Jisung snorted. “Not really.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, propping his face up on his hands, squishing his cheeks in the process. “You remember how I said I wanted to see this exhibition because I read an article on how medieval artists used to paint cats in the ugliest way possible?”

Chan nodded.

“Well, I think he really loves cats and the paintings caused him to have some sort of existential crisis.”

Now it was his roommates turn to snort. “That doesn’t sound all that romantic.”

“I know, but,” Jisung let out a whine, “He looked like he was about to cry and I couldn’t stop staring at him and maybe I was a bit creepy, but then _he_ talked to _me_ , so maybe I wasn’t _that_ creepy. And he looked like freaking angel. An angel with an existential crisis, but an angel nonetheless!”

It was like a dam broke and suddenly all these thoughts and feelings Jisung had stored behind it flooded everything in their way. There was nothing stopping them now.

“Sounds rude.”

“I know! And he was really confusing, but really cute. And pretty. And I don’t know… he just talked to me and _I_ talked to _him_ , too, and I didn’t even stutter that much and he fucking giggled and I swear I died a little and I don’t know what it is, but I think I might be in love.”

“Already?” Chan raised his eyebrows, but there was a laugh in his voice.

“It’s bad… I know,” Jisung whined, letting his head fall face down onto the cushion. His glasses pressed uncomfortably against his face as they were squished against his eyes.

“He called me evil.” He didn’t look up from the couch, choosing to rather succumb to his misery. He wasn’t even sure if Chan heard him, with his voice muffled, but his roommate snorted, eyes following the lines of Jisung’s gigantic hoodie, his soft hair, and puffy cheeks.

“You don’t look evil,” he said.

“He also called me cute,” Jisung mumbled against the couch, “and gave me his number.”

“You sure he thinks you’re evil?”

Jisung looked up, glasses a bit crooked on his nose and lips pulled into a pout. “I don’t know,” he said, “Is that an extrovert thing?”

Chan sighed, ruffling his hair, “I don’t think it is.”

***

  
**Lee Minho:** _just saw this, thought of u  
_ **Lee Minho:**

**Han Jisung:** _…  
_ **Han Jisung:** _why_

**Lee Minho:** _I thought u’d like it_

**Han Jisung:** _I feel like it’s staring into my soul_

**Lee Minho:** _it’s a demon cat_

**Han Jisung:** _why would I like that??_

**Lee Minho:** _u can stop acting all innocent and clueless  
_ **Lee Minho:** _I’ve seen ur true colors :000_

Jisung wasn’t sure for how long he was staring at his phone. He didn’t really know what he expected when Minho asked for his number. Maybe he should have expected this. It made sense, all things considered. And yet, Jisung didn’t even know what to say to that.

_Edit contact_

**Crazy Cat Lady**

_Crazy Cat Lady saved_

***

It’s a week later when Jisung saw Minho again. He was just leaving the art studio and the sun had already set hours ago, because Jisung didn’t know how to read the time when he’s in the middle of a project and had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. If it weren’t for his stomach growling he probably wouldn’t even have noticed that he was hungry.

He had been at the studio since his lectures had ended around lunch time and had skipped lunch in favor to have more time to get his newest piece down. And it still wasn’t done. Jisung had been _this close_ to skip dinner too, but then his stomach had growled again, much louder this time, and the two other students at the studio had looked at him and that had made him much more uncomfortable than the thought of not finishing his art project right now. So he had packed up his stuff, put in his headphones, and cranked up his music, before leaving the studio.

The cold wind hit his face when he opened the door and Jisung involuntarily shivered. It was nearing the end of October and the weather was getting colder, but morning-Jisung didn’t plan ahead and liked to pretend that he wouldn’t lock himself into the art studio for way longer than anticipated, and also liked to pretend that he wouldn’t need a jacket over his hoodie, because it was still hoodie season, not jacket season. Morning-Jisung was also a dumbass.

Shouldering his backpack, he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, keeping his arms close to his body in an attempt to shield himself from the wind, and started walking across the campus.

“Hey!”

He almost let out a shriek when someone touched his shoulder, ripping out his headphones. His head turned around fast enough he could swear he pulled every single muscle in his neck. Damn himself for not even bothering to take breaks from his projects to stretch and walk around.

“Fucking hell, don’t scare me like that!” He shoved Minho’s shoulder, moving his other hand to rub his neck, wincing at the pain shooting through his body.

“I just said hey!” Minho whined.

“But I wasn’t prepared!” 

Minho rolled his eyes and Jisung narrowed his eyes at him. Huffing, he started to walk again, deciding to ignore the stiffness in his neck. Minho started trailing beside him. Jisung could feel his stare, and it was unnerving.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” he grumbled, pulling his shoulders up as if it would hide his face from the other boy’s sight, “Is there something on my face, or what?”

“Yeah,” Minho laughed, “There is.”

Jisung stopped in an instant, quickly pulling his phone out to check his reflection.

There was paint on his face. And not just a tiny dot or splash of color, small enough one might miss it. A streak of blue ran across his cheek and purple painted the bridge of his nose, right beneath his glasses. Jisung groaned, putting his phone away.

Minho laughed again. “It’s cute.”

Adding to the blue and purple on his face was now a bright red and that didn’t match those colors at all. It should fuck right off.

Jisung rubbed at his cheek in an attempt to get it off, when he felt a hand on his wrist.

“Hey, stop,” Minho said, gently pulling his hand away, “You should wash it off properly, don’t torture your skin like that.”

Jisung looked dumbly at the other boy still holding his wrist. What was he supposed to say to that?

His stomach growled again.

_For fuck’s sake._

It must hate him or something.

Minho’s face broke into a grin. Giggling, he raised his eyebrows. “You hungry?”

“What gave you that impression?” Jisung deadpanned, “I was just headed to the store on campus.”

“Hell no,” Minho let out an exaggerated gasp.

“What?” Jisung frowned, the fingers around his wrist like fire burning through the fabric of his hoodie and warming him up, while simultaneously causing a constant shiver running down Jisung’s back. 

“What were you gonna get? Some instant ramen like a basic student?”

“Well…”

_Was there something wrong with that?_

“Not on my watch!” Minho huffed, “Come on, I know a nice little diner off campus. I’ll treat you.”

And then Jisung was being pulled into a completely different direction.

“But… I have paint on my face!”

Minho shrugged. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” there was a mischievous spark in his eyes, a teasing grin returning to his face, “Makes you look less evil.”

***

Jisung really should stop talking. When he had ranted to Chan just the night before he thought he had gotten it all out of his system, but then Minho had texted him, and everything just came crashing back as if it had never left. So here he was, walking with his friends across the campus, and he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. He must have talked about the same thing at least half a dozen times already, but that didn’t stop him from shoving his phone under his friends’ noses, the latest selca of Minho with a weird filter overtop, rendering him practically unrecognizable, displayed on the screen.

Seungmin glared at him from the side, eyebrows furrowed. Next to him was Felix, the complete opposite to him, grinning widely.

“And it’s not like it’s bothering me or anything!” Jisung was flailing his phone like a crazy person, “He should just really stop being so fucking rude!”

Felix put a hand on his shoulder in solidarity.

Jisung was about to say something else when his eyes fell onto a quite familiar face in the distance. Minho was looking at his phone, but then he looked up and his eyes met Jisung’s and Jisung almost stumbled over his own feet. The other boy’s lips spread into a grin, laughing as Jisung tried to regain his balance.

“You okay?” Felix asked, cocking his head to the side.

“’m fine,” Jisung spluttered out, but the redness rising to his face betrayed his pretense nonchalance.

“You sure?”

Jisung looked back at where Minho was standing and oh, no, he was walking towards him. After their last late night encounter Jisung wasn’t sure if he was even ready for another in-person conversation with the other boy. Much less with his undoubtedly supportive, but dumb, friends.

“Hey Jisung!” Minho was standing in front of him.

_How did he get here so fast?_

Out of the corner of his eyes Jisung could see both Seungmin and Felix looking Minho up and down. Black skinny jeans stretched over strong thighs, and a jacket hung over his hoodie-clad shoulders, the hoodie big enough a bit of his collarbone peaked out from beneath the collar.

“Hey Minho,” Jisung managed to say.

“So that’s Minho!” Felix practically yelled out.

“Shh, shut up!” Jisung hissed, elbowing his friend in the side.

“I don’t actually know you, but Jisung is so annoying I already hate you,” Seungmin grunted, and Minho had the actual audacity to laugh out loud.

_I hate my friends._

“I didn’t know you frequented the campus at daylight,” Minho said, smirking, “I thought the evil only come out at night.” 

“Ahh, you know,” Jisung shrugged, the perfect picture of composure, “I was forced against my will, so I don’t know if it counts.”

He felt someone punch him in the side. Seungmin, probably.

“It’s for your own good!” Felix said, a small pout on his lips, “Being cooped up in the studio all day can’t be healthy.”

“I’m the epitome of health,” Jisung huffed, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. Both Felix and Minho laughed.

_Rude._

“We were just about to go get some coffee,” Felix said, raising his eyebrows at Jisung as if he waiting for him to say something as well. Jisung frowned, mouthing a “what?” in his direction, which made Felix actually roll his eyes.

“Cool,” Minho said, “Mind if I tag along?”

“What?”

“Yes.”

“Of course not!”

Minho seemed to deem both Jisung’s and Seungmin’s answer as invalid as he faced Felix and grinned. Jisung watched as Felix pulled Minho with him and they started to walk in front of him and Seungmin, already whispering to each other, throwing glances back at Jisung every now and then. He wanted to strangle Felix. Or maybe strangle Minho. Maybe both?

_Yeah. Both is good._

***

  
**Crazy Cat Lady:** _hey look, it’s u  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:**

**Han Jisung:** _r u making fun of me  
_ **Han Jisung:** _:0_

**Crazy Cat Lady:** _I thought it was cute_

**Han Jisung:** _adfjalsdkjfl_

**Crazy Cat Lady:** _u okay?  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _Jisung?  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _Jisung  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _Jisung  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _Sungie :(((((  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _did I break u?_

“Jisung? What are you doing?”

Jisung didn’t look up from where he had his face buried in a pillow, a groan leaving his throat. “Just let me die in peace.”

He felt the couch dip next to him and then there was a hand in his hair. Normally Jisung would push the hand away, but he was dying, so maybe it was okay.

Chan softly stroked his head, just sitting in solidarity with him, not saying anything. It felt kind of nice. Not that Jisung would actually admit that. Chan’s short nails were softly scraping his scalp and if Jisung weren’t dying, he could fall asleep like this. 

After what felt like hours Jisung pushed himself up and Chan’s hand fell from his head.

“You done dying?” his roommate asked.

Jisung grunted, shrugging his shoulders. “Just taking a break.”

Chan nodded in understanding. “Cool,” he said, “I made some food, you want some?”

**Han Jisung:** _u suck_

**Crazy Cat Lady:** _:(_

***

“This is pretty.”

Jisung jumped at the sudden sound of a voice behind him, almost putting a stroke of paint on his canvas where it most definitely didn’t belong. With wide eyes he turned towards the offender.

“You gotta stop doing that,” he gritted out, but Minho just shrugged, leaning over his shoulder to inspect the painting Jisung was working on. He was close enough Jisung could feel the warmth radiating from his body where he stood behind him. If he were to turn his head he would be barely an inch away from Minho’s smooth skin and sharp jawline. He was _so close_ , without actually touching Jisung and it was doing things to Jisung’s heart and brain and it was so not okay.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was surprisingly stable for how his body was thrumming from his beating heart. He could feel it to his fingertips, and if Minho were to look closely at his hands he might see them shaking just the tiniest bit.

“I was curious,” Minho said, “I wanted to see your stuff.”

Jisung nodded slowly. “And?”

“I expected it to be grimmer and more bleak, to be honest,” Minho said, but there was teasing glint in his voice, “Maybe some gore.”

“Because I’m evil?” Jisung deadpanned.

“Because you’re evil.”

There was no one else at the studio, the last students having left about an hour ago, but Jisung wasn’t done yet and this time his stomach didn’t have the nerve to act up, so food was the last thing on his mind, too.

“How did you know I was here, anyways?” Jisung asked.

“I didn’t _know._ I just guessed,” Minho shrugged, “Also, I texted you. But you ignored me.”

He pulled his lips into a pout and Jisung made the mistake of looking at him as he was doing so. And god, Minho was way too close for comfort and Jisung didn’t mean to, but his eyes instantly found their way to the pathetic pout and he would look away, except for his brain had stopped working. He gulped, subconsciously letting his tongue run over his lower lip, before clearing his throat.

Forcing his brain back online, he shoved Minho away. “I didn’t check my phone.”

“For the entire day?”

Jisung bit his lower lip, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe?”

He picked up his backpack from where it was laying on the floor next to the canvas stand, rummaging around in it until he pulled his phone out from somewhere on the bottom. Unlocking it, he was immediately hit by an avalanche of notifications. He pulled up his messenger app, quickly skimming through the ones Minho had sent him.

“Why am I saved as Crazy Cat Lady?”

Jisung froze.

_Shit._

Minho was still standing behind him, looking over his shoulder, watching Jisung’s phone screen with him. Jisung quickly shoved his phone against his chest. He could feel Minho’s eyes on him, but refused to turn his head to actually look at him.

“I thought it fit?”

He would pat himself on the back for how stable his voice was, no stammering or stumbling over his words, if it weren’t for the fact that he was still clutching his phone way too hard, sitting rigidly on the stool.

“You thought it fit,” Minho said with a disbelieving laugh.

Jisung felt him move from behind him and then Minho was standing in front of him, looking down at him with a teasing grin. “Do I look like a lady to you, Jisungie?”

_Don’t blush. Don’t blush._

Why did he even bother telling himself? He could already feel his face burning up and he wanted to look away, but Minho seemed adamant about holding his gaze.

“If you ask me like that…”

_Great. You’re doing great, Jisung._

Minho let out a laugh, giving his shoulder a shove, his touch like fire burning through Jisung’s hoodie. Jisung was sure he could literally feel his soul leaving his body.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he cleared his throat, pulling himself together. “I actually looked up what the male equivalent of a crazy cat lady is,” he said.

The other boy raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Google told me it’s a dog-owning anti-hero.”

Minho pulled his face into a disgusted grimace. “Now that is almost downright offensive,” he scoffed, “Fuck google.”

A laugh stumbled out of Jisung’s throat, every tense muscle in his body slowly easing a bit and he removed his phone from its confinement against his chest, closing the messenger app and stuffing the phone in his pocket.

“Is that the only one you have here?” Minho pointed towards the painting and Jisung shook his head.

“I rented a locker in here. I was too lazy to carry all my stuff from here to my apartment all the time.”

“Can I see them?”

Jisung pushed himself off the stool, nodding his head at Minho to signal him to come with him as he went to the back of the room where the lockers were.

“I have more at my place,” Jisung said as he put in the combination of the lock and cracked the locker open, “These are just the last one’s I’ve been working on.”

He didn’t show his art to people often. It felt weird. It was different in class, because everyone did art and there was a mutual understanding between them that everyone’s style and expression differed. But people outside of it made Jisung nervous. Made him feel like he had to explain what his art meant. And he didn’t want to explain it, didn’t know how to explain it. He painted, so he wouldn’t have to put it into words.

He knew his art looked messy to others. Wild colors splashed across the wide expanse of white canvases, covering every inch. Some colors warm, some cold, sometimes not matching in the slightest. Jisung painted like he felt, all over the place and without inhibitions.

Jisung bit his lower lip, eyes searching for Minho’s reaction as he let his gaze wander over the paintings in the locker. His hair was falling softly into his forehead, not parted in the middle like the day they first met, but like a mop of messy bangs. As if the boy had been too lazy to style them in the morning. And yet, every strand of hair looked like it was deliberately placed there.

Minho’s lips stretched into a smile, his nose curling up a bit. There was a tiny mole on his left nostril that Jisung hadn’t noticed before. But now that he had seen it, it was all he could look at. If Jisung didn’t hold himself back he might do something stupid, like touch it.

“These are really pretty,” Minho said.

_You’re prettier._

Minho picked up one of the paintings to get a closer look, but Jisung didn’t check which one it was, eyes still focused on Minho’s face, taking in every small twitch of his lips as they softly curled up and how his eyes moved over the painting as if he didn’t want to miss a thing. When he put it back into the locker, he finally turned towards him.

“There are no cats in your paintings,” he said, but Jisung couldn’t tell if that was an accusation or a mere observation. He raised his eyebrows at him. “Is that a good thing?”

“I’m not sure. Depends on how you would draw a cat, I guess,” Minho shrugged, “How _do_ you draw cats?”

“I don’t really draw cats.”

Minho nudged Jisung’s shoulder, “But you know how to draw cats?”

“I think I would manage.” 

The other boy nodded slowly, adding with wide eyes: “Maybe you should draw more cats then.”

Jisung laughed. “Maybe I’ll draw you one. Or I could draw your cats?”

The way Minho’s face lit up and a literal spark appeared in his eyes could almost singlehandedly drain the entirety of Jisung’s soul. “That’d be cool,” Minho said, before adding with a wink: “But you’re not getting pictures of my cats as a reference. Wouldn’t want you to use them for one of your satanic rituals or something.”

Jisung spluttered, “This will never stop, will it?”

Minho shrugged, but the grin didn’t leave his face. And Jisung found that, maybe, he didn’t mind that much, anyways.

***

“I swear, I felt my soul literally leaving my body!” Jisung knew he had to look absolutely mad, running in circles in their living room, ever so often stopping in front of the couch to look at Chan and make frantic hand gestures, “And then he fucking winked at me and maybe he should go die instead of me.”

Jisung almost felt bad for how exhausted Chan looked, but he had to get it all out somehow and all things considered his roommate was his best option. He finally stopped running around and instead opted to fall down next to Chan on the couch, putting his head on Chan’s shoulder before he could protest.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jisung whined, “I can’t go to jail for murder, hyung. I’m too pretty, I wouldn’t last a day!”

He both felt and heard Chan let out a deep sigh, his shoulder rising with the action. “I know we live together and all that, but am I really the best person to ask for advice?”

“Seungmin already blocked me on his phone,” Jisung pouted, “And Felix just says dumb shit like ‘make a move’.”

“Oh, right. We wouldn’t want that.”

Jisung poked him in the side. “Rude.”

His roommate laughed, nudging him right back. Jisung caught his arm, wrapping both of his own around it and holding it tight. His cheek was squished against Chan’s shoulder, pushing his glasses up a bit, and his hair fell into his face.

“It’s just… he’s so confusing,” Jisung said, “And I don’t know, but… what if this is all just a running joke to him? What if he doesn’t actually mean it?”

“When he calls you evil?” Chan snorted, and Jisung let out an offended huff, his hands moving down to play with Chan’s fingers.

“No,” he whined, before adding in a small voice, “When he calls me cute.”

He felt Chan nod slightly against him. “Maybe you should ask him.”

“Will you dig my grave for me if I do?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But you’re so much stronger than I am! If I do it myself it’ll take me ages! By the time it’ll be ready he’ll probably be married and have three more cats and an actual life and then I can’t ask anymore!”

“Maybe you should forgo the grave then.”

Jisung eyes were focused on where his own fingers were wrapped around Chan’s, pulling them up and down again. “But what if I die, hyung?”

“You’re not gonna die, idiot.”

“You don’t know that,” Jisung pouted at him, propping his chin up on Chan’s shoulder so that the older boy could see his pathetic expression. Chan merely rolled his eyes, moving the arm, that Jisung wasn’t clinging to, to shove his face away.

“You’re annoying,” he laughed when Jisung fell back to the couch with a shriek, still clutching onto his arm to not lose his balance completely.

“But you still love me, don’t you, hyung?”

“Worst decision of my life.”

Jisung threw a weak punch. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m even friends with you.”

Chan huffed, practically shoving his finger into Jisung’s cheek. “Because of my amazing advisory skills, obviously.”

Pushing his hand away, Jisung snorted and shook his head. “That must be it.”

***

Jisung didn’t actually plan on doing anything about it. And maybe he would’ve gotten really far with that, too. He saw Minho more often, now that the older boy had decided that it was his own personal mission to drag Jisung out of the art studio every other day and force a sensible meal down his throat. Jisung refused to acknowledge how his heart skipped a beat just thinking about it.

So what if he had lost a good couple of hours of sleep lying awake in his bed, staring at his ceiling, because all his head was screaming at him was _Minho, Minho, Minho_?  
So what if he had noticed his own art changing in the last weeks? Colors and shapes soft, almost delicate, instead of the rough lines and harsh contrasts he usually implemented.

 _This is fine._

Even now, when Minho was just standing there, looking at him.

“What?”

Jisung was getting better at not bursting into flames whenever Minho stared at him. The other boy had a deep frown on his face, his lips between a pout and a scowl, Jisung couldn’t quite decide what it was.

“Where are your glasses?” Minho asked.

Jisung’s hand came up almost instinctively, touching the bridge of his nose. “Oh,” he smiled sheepishly when he remembered, “I’m wearing contacts today.”

“Huh,” Minho said, his gaze unmoving.

Jisung raised his eyebrows at him, and then Minho shrugged. “You’re still cute.”

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Jisung was so fucked.

So no, Jisung didn’t really plan on doing anything about it, and yet he found himself texting Minho in the most inconspicuous way he could manage.

**Han Jisung:** _u doing anything Friday?_

**Crazy Cat Lady:** _why_

**Han Jisung:** _just thought we could hang out and stuff_

Inconspicuous was indeed Jisung’s middle name if he did say so himself.

**Crazy Cat Lady:** _r u planning sth?  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _should I be scared?_

**Han Jisung:** _maybe?_

**Crazy Cat Lady:** _alright I’m hooked  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _what are we doing?_

**Han Jisung:** _u’ll see_

**Crazy Cat Lady:** _noooo  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _tell me :000  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _Jisung?  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _r u really ignoring me now?  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _Jisung  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _Jisung  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _don’t be rude  
_ **Crazy Cat Lady:** _if I die I’ll sue_

***

Jisung didn’t know the man who opened the door.

He was short, buff arms crossed in front of his chest, a stony expression gracing his face, as he looked Jisung up and down. There was an involuntary shiver running down Jisung’s spine and he gulped, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He couldn’t quite place the expression. Was it good? Bad? The other boy might as well murder him in his thoughts right now for all he knew.

Finally, the man nodded, his expression unchanging. “Minho was right,” he said, “You are cute.”

_MISSION ABORT._

“What?” Jisung stuttered, but the man had already turned away.

“Yah! Your boyfriend is here!” the man yelled. Jisung could hear footsteps coming from inside the apartment and he wasn’t ready. What had he been thinking? This was a terrible idea! Was it too late to run away and make up some shitty excuse?

_Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die._

Jisung was gonna die.

And then he came face to face with Minho, the other boy flashing him a bright grin. And god, he looked so happy to see him and it didn’t help Jisung’s process of dying in the slightest.

“You’re here!” he said.

“Yeah?” Jisung bit his lower lip, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his pants. There weren’t paint stains on them, he had checked beforehand. He had to dig into the deepest corners of his closet to find ones that were paint-free.

“You’re not late.”

“I’m never late,” Jisung frowned.

Minho raised his eyebrows. “That’s not what your friends say.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “You’ve been talking to my friends?”

_Fucking great._

The other boy shrugged. “They’re my friends now, really.”

Jisung watched as Minho slipped into familiar greyish sneakers and pulled a scarf around his neck. He moved to grab his jacket from the rack beside the door and stepped outside. “I would invite you in, but I wasn’t sure if my cats could handle all your evil.”

Jisung opened his mouth, gaping at him. A protest dying on his lips, just like every cell in his body. “I don’t hate cats,” he finally whined, uselessly, like he had so many times before.

“You keep saying that, and yet you have given me little reason to believe you.”

“Maybe if you would stop making sure I didn’t cross any cats whatsoever I could prove my innocence,” Jisung grumbled, “I haven’t pet a cat in weeks! You gotta stop that.”

“If you convince me, you can pet my cats.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” Minho grinned, a mischievous spark in his eyes, “Good luck with that, though.”

Minho was irritating like that. And it almost made Jisung forget that he was in the middle of dying. And then the older boy would do something stupid like grab his hand to pull Jisung with him. And his entire being would, once again, stand in flames.

***

Minho had shot him a skeptical look when Jisung led him to an art museum. Jisung had expected it, but chose to ignore it and ushered him into the building. He paid for their tickets, ignoring Minho’s protests and whines. Instead he just rolled his eyes and pushed him away so he couldn’t get his own wallet out fast enough.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re gonna look at or do I have to keep fearing for my life?” Minho asked as they walked towards the wardrobe to give up their backpacks.

“You’re fearing for your life?”

The older boy’s expression remained unchanging. “Who knows,” he said, “This might all be part of your evil scheme and in reality I’ll have to witness more abominations you call cats.”

Jisung shook his head, but he couldn’t keep the smile from spreading on his lips. “How are you always this dramatic?”

“Says you?” Minho raised his eyebrows at him, and Jisung laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “Says me.”

Once they had gotten rid of their backpacks Jisung pulled Minho with him to the entrance of the exhibition. He could feel the restlessness tingle under his skin as they entered the first room. Biting his lower lip, he glanced at the other boy out of the corner of his eyes, but quickly moved them to the floor when Minho looked back at him. Without raising his gaze, Jisung held out a brochure of the exhibition. Minho’s fingers grazed his own when he took it, causing a shiver to run up Jisung’s arms.

 _Cats in Art History_ was printed in big letters on the front page, a well-known painting right beneath it.

“It’s full of art inspired by cats,” Jisung murmured, when Minho didn’t say anything, “Because while Europeans in medieval times hated cats, a lot of artists in many time periods and cultures really didn’t and found them to be intriguing. There isn’t any medieval art here, I checked beforehand. So I thought that, maybe, you would like this better.”

Minho opened the brochure, looking at the floor plan of the exhibition. The room they were standing in right now was full of Egyptian art and sculptures of cats. Slowly, he started to walk further into the room, looking at the different paintings, before coming to stop in front of one of the sculptures.

Jisung really wanted to enjoy the art himself, but all he could think about was Minho. Was his silence a good sign? Or was he disappointed? Maybe this whole art thing was just a horrible idea.

“So,” Jisung stuffed his hands into his pockets, ducking his head, “What do you think?”

He watched as Minho let his eyes wander through the room before settling back on the brochure in his hands, where some of the highlights of the exhibition were depicted on the inside.

“Hmm,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “I still don’t get art.” He turned to look at Jisung, a soft smile on his lips. “But I like the cats.”

***

The wind was cold against Jisung’s face and he tightened his scarf around his neck. The sun was setting on the horizon, but the weather was, once again, colder than Jisung had anticipated.

The sleeves of his hoodie were longer than his arms, swallowing his hands, letting only his fingertips peak out at the bottom. Minho was walking beside him, close enough for their shoulders to bump together and his arm grazing Jisung’s with every step, making all the tiny hairs on his skin stand up and burn.

Minho’s fingers grazed his own, and then he linked their hands together. Jisung’s heart stopped for a second, and for a moment he almost forgot to keep walking, stumbling over his legs.

Usually Minho only took his hand when he was pulling Jisung somewhere. He wasn’t pulling now, simply letting their hands swing between them, his palm warm against Jisung’s freezing one. Jisung could feel eyes on him, and his ears felt hot beneath his beanie. His own feet weren’t cooperating as well as he would like them to, so he just kept looking down at them, trying his best to ignore the burning stare.

They stopped at a park bench and Jisung finally dared to look at Minho. Dark eyes were already looking at him, and Jisung’s breath caught.

Minho grinned. “Cute.”

He moved his free hand up to Jisung’s face and gently pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his hand brushing his cheek when he pulled away.

Jisung was on fire. Or maybe he was already dead.

His mouth hung open, useless, and Minho just kept looking at him.

Jisung wanted to say something, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth, the words stuck in his throat, and he must have been gaping at the other boy for way too long, because Minho let out a giggle.

And maybe Jisung’s brain cut out for a second. But Minho looked really pretty with the remaining rays of sunlight highlighting his hair and face, and Jisung was already dumb on his own, but looking at Minho only made him dumber. So he took a bold step forward and pushed himself upwards, his lips finally touching the other boy’s. He felt Minho’s breath catch beneath him, but before he could react, Jisung had already pulled away.

His heart was beating so loud it was the only thing he could hear within the silence surrounding them, his fingers trembling as he clenched them into fists and stretched them out again.

_Am I dying?_

“I kissed you.”

Jisung’s voice was barely above a whisper, so quiet he wasn’t sure if Minho had even heard him. He looked at him, gulping at how close they were still standing. His eyes flickered to the lips he had just kissed and back to the dark eyes of the other boy.

Minho’s mouth hung open, the corners of his lips twitching. “You kissed me.”

A hint of pink colored his cheeks and it might be because of the cold, but maybe it was because of _Jisung._

And then it hit him. He had just kissed Minho. And he hadn’t even asked beforehand. He just did it. 

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Oh… oh, no,” he stammered, “I feel like I shouldn’t have done that. Was that okay? Was that weird? Do you feel weird now? I made it weird, didn’t I? I’m so-“

“Jisung.”

Minho brought a hand to his cheek, and Jisung instantly fell silent, looking at him with wide eyes; mouth slightly agape, the apology dying on his lips. His hand was so warm on the cold skin of his face and maybe it really wasn’t that cold outside, because all Jisung felt was fire everywhere.

“Shut up,” Minho grinned, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips against Jisung’s.

This time, Jisung’s breath caught, and even though he had kissed Minho first he wasn’t prepared for the softness of Minho’s lips against his. And then he practically melted against the other boy as lips coaxed him to return the kiss, slowly starting to move them against Minho’s, mirroring what the other boy was doing.

Minho pulled back, laughing when Jisung chased after his lips. He was still so close, Jisung could feel his breath against his skin, his hand still holding his face. Jisung’s hands fell from Minho’s waist which he hadn’t even noticed gripping in the first place, too distracted by the sensation of the other’s lips on his.

Jisung stared at him, mouth hanging open as he brought a hand up to his lips, softly touching them.

“You kissed me,” he breathed.

Minho let out a tiny giggle. “I kissed you.”

Eyes flickered to Minho’s lips which were still _right there_ and back up to his eyes again.  
“Can you,” his voice was rough, “Can you do that again?”

The smile Minho gave him could give Jisung enough energy to dig his own grave within mere minutes. But every grave related thought slipped his mind when he felt Minho’s hand move to the back of his neck. Minho pulled him back towards him, and this time, Jisung met him halfway.

***

“His lips are so fucking soft, I thought I legitimately died and went to heaven!”

“I’m literally _this close_ ,” Seungmin held up his fingers, barely a few millimeters apart, “to actually committing a murder.”

After going out with Minho, Jisung had invited him to his and his friends weekly movie night at Seungmin’s place, to which the other boy had readily agreed to. Frankly, Jisung couldn’t remember much of the movies they had watched, but by the time it was deep at night, Felix had fallen asleep on the couch and Seungmin had offered Jisung to sleep over, while simultaneously telling Minho to get lost, because there was “absolutely no fucking way any funny business would be happening under his roof”.

Felix gave him a look. “He’s not that bad,” he tried, but was met with a deathly glare.

“I had to watch them make out for like an hour yesterday!” he growled, “They are literally all over each other and he still won’t. Shut. Up.”

“Oh come on,” Felix shrugged, “They’re cute.”

“Fuck yeah we are!” Jisung yelled out.

The front door opened and Jisung almost flung himself from the couch when Chan entered.

“Hyung!” he practically jumped his roommate, crushing him in his tiny arms.

“What did you guys give him?” Chan shot Seungmin and Felix a pointed look, furrowing his brows.

“We didn’t give him anything,” Seungmin grumbled, “He’s just high on having a stupid boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Chan’s face lit up in realization, “So you actually did something dumb like ‘make a move’?” He grinned at Jisung who had his face smashed against his shoulder, glasses dangerously close to falling off. Jisung scowled, pushing him away.

“Maybe.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said, ruffling his hair, “Does that mean I won’t have to listen to you rant anymore?”

“Hell no!” Jisung’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement, “I’m just getting started!”

**BONUS**

“Why do you have my number still saved as Crazy Cat Lady on your phone?”

“I added a heart to it!”

“Hmm.”

“And you’re one to talk! I’m still Evil Quokka on yours!”

“Well, you _are_ evil.”

“Your cats like me!”

“They’ve betrayed me before.”

“ _You_ like me!”

“You can’t prove anything.”

“…”

“…”

“That’s it, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No Jisung, wait. Come back!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you liked this and thanks for reading! :))


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